The new album is slated for release tomorrow, on the 22nd, and the artist Ismail Serrano reflects on a lifetime in music. The singer-songwriter, known for his lyrical sensitivity and subtle irony, treats his career as a measured arc—from a young man who once believed he could do no wrong to a mature artist who sees life through a poet’s lens and a veteran’s ear for melody. He holds that the true dimension of life can only be heard through song.
The song of our life is a tribute. Yet, one reviewer notes, the storyteller is not old enough to announce a complete recap.
In response, the artist explains that fifty years offer plenty of material, especially since he began crafting music at twenty-three. The song honors everyone who has stood beside him since the early days singing in cafes. At twenty-three, he admits, he wore arrogance like a badge, certain he held all the answers and that the world was obvious.
Is such certainty still cool? He answers with a candid no. With age comes permeability and flexibility; listening deepens and the sense of certainty wanes. Fatherhood further repositions the self from the story’s center, opening space for others in the narrative.
When asked if he still teases his father, the artist smiles and says the habit endures, even as maturity grows. Memory keeps the music close, reminding him what the song represents and why it matters. He wonders what stories his generation will leave for their children.
There is a playful jab about burning at night, and the question of perseverance. The response is lighthearted but honest: the body no longer performs like it once did, hangovers linger, and mornings with the kids arrive with a stubborn remnant of last night’s weariness. Yet the spirit remains willing, and creativity persists.
In the cover of quiet introspection, the singer reflects on being the most handsome or the rising star of his era. He concedes that such bravado faded with time, but believes belief in one’s craft is essential. If belief falters, the stage feels hollow, and the music loses its drive.
Intensity does not wane, though it changes shape. The artist remains busy, and some elements endure—sensory memory, emotional depth, and a need to express himself with raw honesty. While sadness is not avoided, it is embraced as part of the human experience rather than a defect to hide.
There is a natural notion that many writers look inward when singing or composing. The singer agrees that fatherhood can shift priorities, yet the habit of self-reflection persists. He strives to write songs that connect with life rather than drift into private thought that does not resonate with listeners.
Home life comes with its own rhythm—between chores and the garden, where does the needle land? He describes himself as a good-humored person who doesn’t pretend to be flawless. He laughs at himself and refuses to be cruel, yet he does not shy away from keeping the humor alive amid daily routines. The balance between ordinary duties and artistic work remains a constant challenge and source of perspective.
A running joke concerns the influence of ideology on art. He has never found a simple answer to political affiliations or culinary stereotypes about Madrid, and he notes that such debates touch many artists. He favors curiosity over dogma and values exploration over easy labels.
When asked about dedicating a song to a political figure, he explains that his own approach is not personal to any one politician. He has written a song that addresses political noise from a tolerant vantage, critiquing intolerant attitudes while preserving the freedom to reflect and discuss openly.
Regarding a track rumored to be dedicated to a psychiatrist, he acknowledges that one song in the collection could be seen as a therapeutic exercise. It examines self-acceptance and the journey toward healthful self-love, with lines that affirm personal value and the effort to adapt to one’s body and life situation.
A candid note about self-acceptance and relationships
There is a recurring theme about the need to say more about self-love, because affection between people can be limited. The artist shares memories of his late grandmother, who sang Manolo Escobar with a smile, a memory that brings warmth even as he reflects on life’s complexities. It was a time when music connected generations and carried joy through small, shared moments.
Feeling rebellious surfaces in conversation, but the sense remains that, in truth, the artist is a fifty-year-old social democrat who raises his voice when needed. He believes that other professionals in the field may be sheltered or distracted, yet he stays focused on expressing what matters to him, with honesty and a touch of irony that keeps the work grounded.